She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. Courtlaw. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise.
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